


some things never change

by aldiara



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Drabble Day 2019, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Geek Love, M/M, Open Relationships, Quadruple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: Vince is still into Doctor Who. Stuart is still a twat. They're still going strong.





	some things never change

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Drabble Day 2019](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/drabbleday/).

Stuart strolls in late, strutting and predatory like old times, smelling of spunk and smoke, though where in the world of fuck he finds smoke clouds to roll around in these latter days, nobody knows. 

Vince, curled up in front of the telly, mock-groans and dodges when Stuart tries to kiss him. “Oy! Take a shower, you twat. You reek of shags and desperation.”

Stuart just laughs at him, draping over his lap and squinting at the telly. “New Who again, Vince? You are a sad old man.”

“It’s dead cool again these days, you eejit. You’re the sad one.”

*

They’re both pathetic, Vince decides mid-snog, with their pants down around their ankles, humping on the couch; his fist wrapped tight around both their cocks, wanking them hard, not even caring that Stuart has not had that shower. He can’t quite tell what it is that gets him going so much about Stuart coming home from shagging some stupid horny twenty-something, coming home to _him_ , Vince, still covered in spunk but wanting it, wanting _them_ so hard it’s almost enough to make him come untouched, and oh… oh…

“Disco,” he whispers, squeezing tight, and they laugh as they come together.

*

The sound on the telly is muted, but she’s still there on the screen, _his_ doctor, definitely the one, forever: brilliant and quick and kind, and yeah, he wants her coat. She’s on a bus, some do about Rosa Parks, quite touching really, and it makes him think…

“Can you still do it?” Vince murmurs, into Stuart’s damp neck. Stuart chortles. He doesn’t have to ask. 

“William Hartnell, Patrick Troughton, Jon Pertwee, Tom Baker, Peter Davison, Colin Baker, Sylvester McCoy, Paul McGann – I know, he counts now – John Hurt, Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant, Matt Smith, Peter Capaldi, Jodie Whittaker, happy?”

*

“Yeah, you’ll do,” Vince says, and bites a hickey someone’s put there earlier, like they don’t know to keep it below the neckline. Kids.

Stuart hisses and retaliates with tickling. No fair. Vince yowls and kicks and pleads back pain in the end, which has Stuart snorting at him, disgusted. 

“You sad old man,” he repeats, palms plastered on either side of Vince’s face, thumbs gently smoothing out the wrinkles by his eyes. “I sort of love you.”

Vince smiles, touched despite himself. “I loved you first.”

But Stuart only shakes his head, smiling, like he knows better, the twat.


End file.
